


Being a Witch is a lot of work

by DoomNightAt12



Series: A Witch, A Ghost, and more. [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Church is a Ghost, Gen, M/M, The rest of the cast is related to the supernatural somehow, Washington is a witch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23193865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomNightAt12/pseuds/DoomNightAt12
Summary: It was a fluke that Wash found out he'd inherited his parents old shop. Sure he’d been the only one of his siblings to inherit any magic, but after leaving home he didn’t expect to still be in the will.Now he was stuck running it, as well as dealing with all of its strange, supernatural customers, like one particularly annoying ghost.
Relationships: Leonard L. Church & Agent Washington
Series: A Witch, A Ghost, and more. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695187
Comments: 24
Kudos: 54





	1. Small town, population: Weird.

Washington considered it a fluke, or some weird, horrible twist of fate when he was told his parents had left him the family store in their wills. He hadn’t had anything to do with his family for years, and he’d been moving so frequently the sheer fact someone had managed to find him was a worry as well. But he knew why it had been him: the one with the strongest magic affinity out off all his siblings, who’d spent so much time learning the do’s and don’ts behind spells and catalyst choices as he wandered the store.

However, being back in the small town he’d grown up in, the key he turned in hand felt much lighter than he remembered. Staring in through the dirty glass, the shelves of bottles, stones, books and herbs sorted haphazardly didn’t stir anything more than anxiety, and the settling dread that someone might recognise him.

He shifted the duffle on his shoulder, careful not to jostle the cat carrier in his other hand, and let himself in, old bell chiming. Without curtains, the front room was warm from the afternoon sun, and the newly disturbed dust floated slowly through the beams of light. Being much taller than before, the shop layout felt strange, but the smell of dried plants did pull up a nostalgic feeling and helped him relax a little.

At the very back of the shop front was a small wooden counter and matching chair, the only things hiding an old accounts book and cash box. Flicking through, the last sale had been months ago, probably when his parents had been alive, so it was quite lucky no one had broken in to steal the still quite full cash box.

“ _Mmrrr_.”

“Right, sorry.”

Wash sat the carrier on the table and opened the door, letting a scruffy black cat stretch its way out. With only one eye and a missing back leg, Loki had been his only constant companion throughout the years, having introduced himself as his familiar when he was six. He’d always been grateful for another watchful eye on lookout.

Slumping into the chair, Washington rested his head in his hands as he tried to figure out his next move. For now, he could use the house attached to the shop, and any income the shop could generate would help, but staying long term was out of the question. He couldn’t see himself settling down, so he needed to find a new owner. Maybe one of his sisters may want to take it on, or perhaps one of the neighbours was looking to invest in more space. Anything would work, as long as he could cut ties with the past.

Pulling his head from his hands, he happened upon the sight of a customer.

‘ _Geez, did I dose off for a moment there?_ ’

He kept his sigh to himself and rubbed at his eyes, wondering how he didn’t hear the massive bell above the door or why Loki hadn’t alerted him.

“Can I help you sir?”

The man didn’t respond, gazing boredly at the shelves. He wasn’t the most well kept customer, messy black hair, the beginnings of a beard and the pale completion of someone who didn’t get out the house enough.

“Sir?”

At the more pressed tone he turned his head, then quickly looked behind him to the empty shop, before looking back and pointing to himself.

 _'A bit slow too_.’ Wash nodded to confirm that yes it was him, the only other person here, that he was talking to. The man walked closer to the counter, and Wash almost had to squint at how pale he was, like he was almost glowing whit-

“You can see me?”

 _'Fuck_.’

He’d gotten so used to not talking to people that he didn’t even bother to think that this completely silent, deathly pale customer might be a ghost. An actual fucking ghost. His luck kept getting better. The glint in the ghost’s bright blue eyes made him realise that at this point it would be rude to just ignore the man, and he was not in the mood to deal with pissed off spirits.

“Yes.”

“Fuck'n sweet. You new in town or something?”

He nodded, not willing to elaborate.

“Thought so. Man the guys are gonna love this!”

Before he could open his mouth to say, _'For the love of the gods don’t bring more people here’_ , the ghost was gone from sight. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Loki, I’m going out back. Please tell me if more weirdos show up.”

“Meow~”

* * *

“ _You forgot to lock the door_.”

“Damnit Loki, tell me these things sooner.”

The old iron bell chimed, and a few new voices filled the shop. Loki passed on that there were two people that the ghost had brought back with him. Wash considered just hiding out in the back until they got bored.

“Heeeeey! New guy!”

Unimpeded by furniture and walls, the ghost walked right to him, sticking his head through the kitchen cupboard. Filled with different stages of drying plants and pickling jars, Washington had unsuccessfully found any sort of coffee to keep him sane from his new acquaintance’s antics. 

“Please don’t just, float into my house.”

“Mh-hm, sure whatever. Come on out already.”

With only the determination to get everyone to leave him alone, did Wash return to the front of the shop. In front of his counter where what could assumedly be the ghosts ‘friends’, one being a shorter man with dark skin and eyes, dreadlocks pulled into a ponytail, and a much taller man with bright blue eyes, a mop of fluffy blond hair, and the biggest possible grin. Both turned to the ghost when he remerged, and then quickly looked at Washington.

“Tucker did it!”

The taller man pointed an accusing finger at the shorter, earning an elbow to the ribs.

“Shut it Caboose.”

Caboose quickly stepped aside and came right up to the ghost.

“Church! Is this the new friend you wanted us to make friends with?”

Wash flinched at the volume echoing in the small front room. The ghost, Church, grinned like he’d had some victory, and Wash really didn’t want to have anything to do with any of them.

“If you’re bringing more people here, I hope they’re going to buy something.”

“Oh right, yeah.” Church patted his sides, then turned to Tucker, “Uh, you got money? Because I don’t, or, can’t.” He turned his pockets inside out in show.

Tucker thankfully pulled Caboose back, looking around the shop fondly.

“Well, if they’ve still got the good stuff here I’ll buy. I missed shopping here.”

With a dull ache, Wash realised that obviously there’d be people in town who used to shop here, that probably knew his parents and got their advice over the years. If these two were friends with a ghost, they had connection to the supernatural in one way or another.

“I’m only running this place temporarily. I’d suggest buying what you want now while you still can.”

“Is that some scare tactic to get me to buy more?”

Despite sounding unimpressed, Tucker still moved with purpose as he searched the far shelves. Cabooses attention had moved to Loki, finding a sprig of dried lavender to dangle like a cat toy, not that the cat was too impressed by his efforts. Church put himself right next to Wash, pretending to lean on the counter.

“So like I was saying, it’s good to finally have someone new to chat too. These two ain’t exactly the best conversationalists.”

“I care plenty for the environment!”

“Not what I’m talking about Caboose.”

Wash didn’t hide his sigh, “As I said, I’m not planning on sticking around long. And I’m not looking to fill my time with idle chatter either. I’m cleaning up the personal belongings here and then finding a new owner for this place.”

“Lame. Maybe I could haunt you when you go? Been a while since I’ve gotten out of town.”

“I’d really prefer you didn’t.”

“Buzzkill.”

Tucker returned, putting a small collection of items on the counter, before joining he conversation.

“So what’s your story mystery man? This place has been shut for months and suddenly there’s some guy with a face of scars running it, what’s with that?”

Wash busied himself with tallying the cost, putting up his best ‘ _Don’t go digging_ ’ front.

“Do you not get along with cats Mr Witch?”

Wash flinched at being called a Witch so quickly. Caboose had gotten his hands around Loki, holding the cat at arm’s length like a sack of potatoes, but a large scratch was clear along one cheek and a few smaller ones welted on his hands, “I understand. I’m more of a dog person myself.”

Tucker grimaced, “Freckles is a robot, I don’t think it really counts.”

“Kai calls your kid a dog, does that count?” Church snickered.

“Hey, leave Junior outa this-“

“Your total comes to 42.50. Do you want a bag?”

The three turned back to Wash, who wasn’t having to fake the pained look as a headache set in. Church laughed as Tucker grabbed his wallet.

“Yikes, for a second there I though we were at the supermarket hearing some dead-inside teen at the checkout. How old are you?”

“ _Bag?_ ”

“Yeah, I’ll take a bag dude. You got change?”

Wash bagged the items, fished out change from the small lock box, and pointedly handed the bag and change to Tucker.

“A real chatter box you’ve found here Church.” Tucker grabbed the bag, as well as the hint to leave. Caboose finally released Loki so he could wave, before following Tucker out, leaving Church to trail behind. When he got to the door, he offered his own wave.

“See ya ‘round.”

Finally alone, Wash collapsed into a chair.

“I need to get out of here. As soon as possible.”


	2. Excuses? I don't have them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash foolishly goes out and learns more about Church's friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to more of this self indulgent AU where Wash tries to be anti-social but fails. Enjoy!  
> Come yell at me on tumblr: LordSireno

Church made himself a regular at the little magic store, though thankfully he didn’t always make himself a nuisance. There were some days that Wash only had to deal with living customers, and others where Church would simply come in to stand around like how he did when they first met. There were days, however, where he felt the need to fill the silence with general chatter, talking about anything from how Caboose recently managed to piss him off, to how ‘awesome’ he was when he was alive (and even in death), to even just random small town gossip.

“So apparently this Bitters kid is being investigated for fraud, but I’ve hung around the supermarket enough to know that eating a dozen chocolate bars in the back room really doesn’t need police investigation.”

“How many people in this town can actually see you?”

Wash generally avoided contributing to the conversation, but with the way Church talked it was like the whole town was populated by the supernatural and beyond.

“How many? I dunknow like…” He tried to count off his fingers, “Err eiiiight? Twelve? I’m gonna say its somewhere around ten-ish, it’s hard to tell with some people if they see me, or they are just looking past me. Must be like eleven including you.”

“That’s… a lot of people. There’s usually never that many spiritually attuned people in one small area.” He chose not to voice, ‘ _Unless someone brings them together.’_

“Guess I’m just a magnet for them.”

“That’s not a good thing.”

“Why not? I’m the life of a party! Or death of it? No, no that sounds bad.”

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t suggest going out looking for more. It only spells trouble.”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

That shut Washington up. Church grinned at having gotten an actual conversation from him, but the fact he still clammed up at anything relating to his personal life still pissed him off.

“Look man, have you considered loosening up? Maybe take that stick out of your ass and live a little?”

“I’m not here to make friends.”

“You’d be doing a terrible job if you were trying. All I’m saying is while you _are_ stuck here, why not go out for a drink or something? It’s not going to kill you.”

A strained laugh escaped Wash, and Church quickly thought back over his words to find the joke. Unsure which part could have triggered his humor, he gave a wave as he turned to leave.

“I’ll be haunting the Valhalla bar tonight, you know, just in case you want to keep me company.”

Wash watched as he mimed opening the door and vanished.

* * *

It takes the entire walk across town for Wash to realise he can’t think of a plausible reason for him to be going to the Valhalla bar. Not one. A block away and he knows he should just turn around, go home, and curl up with Loki for the night. Loki protested from his shoulder at the thought of being squeezed.

“ _You’re already here. Suck it up~”_

“Thanks for the support.”

Valhalla is the brightest store front around, with a few people mulling out front and music humming from within. Nothing bad so far. Loki left his perch at the edge of the next streetlight.

“ _Try not to cause trouble, I’ll meet you out here~”_

“Remind me which one of us still has their body intact?”

“ _With that kind of attitude, it won’t be you for long~"_

He darted past the few smokers to reach the front door, still looking for excuses to leave. A cheer rung out as the song finished, alluding to live music for the evening.

‘ _Alright. Go in, have one drink, listen to one song, leave. That’ll be enough ‘going out’ for me.’_

He pulled his jacket closer and pushed his way inside. There had to be around 30 or so people filling tables, bar stools and dance floor space, stretching into the dim light past the bar along the left wall. The band was prepping for their next song down in the back-right corner, which made for a perfect chance to fetch that drink. At the bar he gestured to the staff, ordering something without much alcohol with the goal to not wake with a headache.

“Well, if it isn’t our mystery magic man.”

‘ _Failed step one. Abort mission.’_

Without turning his head, he eyed the spot three chairs over, finding Tucker leaning forward to get a clear view of him.

“Ooohh! So this is him?”

On the chair between them, a girl with golden skin and a mess of brown hair spun to get a good look at him, eyes clearly trailing up and down, brows raised.

“Hmm…. Meh.”

“ _Meh?_ Kai you ain’t got no taste.”

“You always talk big Tucker, but you blow everything way out of proportion.”

_‘Please kill me now.’_

The bartender placed his drink down, and Wash was in every mind to slam it down and run. Run away from the bar, from social interaction, and maybe from life entirely. Maybe he’ll stay gone this time.

“So magic man, I didn’t actually catch your name last time.”

He leveled a look at Tucker, then at Kai, then at his drink. He took a long sip.

“Washington.”

Kai threw back a shot, “What, like the state? Weird.”

Tucker swirled whatever toxic coloured concoction was in his glass, “Yeah, but anyone who knows Church is weird.”

He tried not to spit out his drink, mentally screaming that ‘ _Of course this girl is one of the several people who know Church. She's here with Tucker of all people.’_

“How the fuck do you all know Church?” 

“Oh, well when I was doing cheer leading for an interstate game, I was in the locker room and this guy wandered in, but none of the other girls said anything so I just went about changing. Then when people started to leave, they walked right through him! So I walked up to him and said ‘ _You’re a ghost? That’s kinda hot.’_ ”

Wash let his expression drop into horror at the many wrong things in that explanation, as Tucker muttered something about ‘ _lucky bastard’._

He shook his head is disbelief, “I more meant why can you all see ghosts?”

Tucker and Kai looked at each other, then shrugged.

“Really? You don’t know? Spiritual attunement doesn’t just happen to someone.”

“Spiri-what now?”

Wash put down his drink and rubbed his face, not having expected to give a lecture on the supernatural in a bar. He could still leave, but he hated ignorance too much to leave these idiots in the dark. He fully turned to face them.

“Spiritual attunement can be cause by lots of different things, but they’re generally pretty obvious ‘I’ve encountered slash become something supernatural’ situations. Have either of you seen or done something out of the ordinary before you met Church?”

“I think you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific, because I can tell you my sex life is anything but ordinary, bow chika bow wow.”

Wash bit the inside of his cheek. ‘ _Don’t punch him, a bar fight will not be a part of tonight.’_

“Think. Weird, supernatural, magic or creatures you don’t normally see. Things not explainable to your neighbour. One of the most common is unusual encounters with death. Ring any bells?”

Both looked to seriously consider his words, Kai speaking up first.

“My mum was a bear, does that count?”

“Yeah- Wait, what?”

Tucker tapped his chin, “Do aliens count?”

“Do _what now?_ ”

“Hey, you’re the one who said weird things I wouldn’t tell my neighbours. Though I probably wouldn't tell them about my sex life, but they basically fall under the same category.”

Wash turned back to his drink, wished he’d ordered something stronger, before finishing it off.

“What about you magic man?” Kai shoved his shoulder, “What kinda tricks do you do? With an attitude like that, can you pull a ten-foot poll out of your ass?”

Tucker laughed. Wash suddenly gripped Kai’s hand, flipping it to palm up and staring hard at her wrist. Both went quiet in wonder, before Wash let go and stood, leaving the money for his drink on the counter.

“You should watch your blood pressure.”

He left. Kai and Tucker sat in confused silence, until Church strode up to them.

“Hey losers, you seen our new ghost visionary yet?”

“Church, you attract the weirdest people, you know that right?”

"Hell yeah, keeps my after-life interesting."


	3. Red means Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash discovers Red Base, meets some new people and then almost dies.  
> Which was just how his life seemed to go at this point.

Somewhere on his ‘How to get out of town quick’ list, Wash had a note regarding his getaway vehicle. He’d been traveling by public transport all these years, but it was never reliable, which was even more so in a small town. He could drive sure, though the legitimacy of his licences were only fine if people didn’t look too hard.

The only auto shop in town sold cars, and those were a bit beyond his budget. He was hunting for something small, something cheap, and something easy to look after. Which had led him to a mechanics shop on the edge of town, slathered in red paint and filled with all sorts of junk.

The slightly cooked sign above the roller door read ‘ _Red Base’._

“Hello?”

The door was open, but the shop was completely quiet. A vehicle of unknown design hung from the car lift, paint and oil can strewn about, leaving a pungent tang to the air. Raising a hand to cover his nose, Wash scanned the area, eyes settling on a small wooden door with the plaque ‘Office’ nailed to it. He knocked twice, before pushing it open.

“Excuse me?”

“Si?”

Behind a desk was a man, dressed entirely in brown biking gear, including a helmet with a tinted visor..

“Uh, I was- That is, I’m looking to purchase a motorbike and though this would be the best place to ask.”

“Qué? Porque tenemos partes que crees que tendríamos una bicicleta completa?”

Wash stared. He was pretty sure that was Spanish he was hearing. He didn’t speak Spanish. There was also something very wrong feeling about the man.

“I’m sorry uh, no uh- no espanol.”

“Aquí nadie habla español. Al menos no bien.”

“LOPEZ! YOU DONE WITH THOSE ORDER FORMS YET?”

Flinching at the volume, Wash turned back to the workshop, spotting an older man covered in grease marching in from the back. Literally marching, like he was in some military parade.

“LOPEZ- Oh.” He finally noticed the stranger, grinning, “Lopez, why didn’t you say we had a customer!”

“No preguntaste.”

“So hard to find good help these days.” The man shook his head, before putting out a hand in greeting, “Names Sarge. What brings ya to my base?”

He accepted the shake despite the black stains on the offered hand, “Washington. I’m looking for a motorbike, but nowhere in town sells them. Thought this might be the next best place to check.”

“You got that right!”

Sarge was much too loud, but if he had a bike then he could be out of here in no time. He gestured towards the back door, which lead out into a scrapyard full of all sorts of broken machines and technology. Along the back wall were what seemed to be robots, the kinds you’d see in fights on TV, cobbled together from sheet metal and circuitry.

“What are ya in the market for? Something built for high speed chases? Built to take on an army chopper?”

Wash stopped suddenly, “Built for what now?”

Sarge put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a knowing look, “You can’t fool me kid, I know what you are. With your secret code names and need for cool lookn’ get away bikes. We’ll you’ve come to the right place, I’ve got guns too, depending on your budget.”

“ _What?!_ ” Wash recoiled, “No no no, you’ve got me- this- all wrong. I just want a normal, everyday bike. For normal, everyday travel.”

Sarge didn’t look convinced.

“…You ain’t one of those new age hippies?”

“No.”

“Religious combat exorcist?”

“No.”

“Drat, need me one of those.”

Wash failed, yet again, to hold his tongue.

“…You know Church, don’t you?”

“Incorporeal bastard keeps trying to steal Lopez.”

“The guy in the biker gear?”

“Somethin’ about robots not having enough will to resist possession. But Lopez hasn’t given in yet!”

“Si muero será en mis términos.”

“I…” Wash was lost, given too much information in one go. He looked at Lopez, who shoved a stack of papers in Sarge’s arms, before lifting a car engine like it was nothing.

“Damnit Lopez, what have I said about doing the paperwork in Spanish?!”

“Entonces hazlo tú mismo.”

“I’m… You know what? I’m just gonna go.”

“Oh. Well if you change your mind, just give me a ring! I’m always looking for new projects.”

Sarge pulled a business card from his overalls, placing it purposefully into Wash’s hand. He slipped it into his pocket without a glance and turned on his heel, mentally planning to look up an actual bike dealership.

* * *

Washington didn’t understand how _no one_ in a hundred miles of public transport routes was selling a motorbike. No one. It was like all of his luck had disappeared the moment he stepped into this town, and no amount of charms he hung in his room would help.

So he found himself back at Red Base. He’d called Sarge beforehand and managed to convince the man that, no, he didn’t need any guns or lazers or super charges on his bike. But now he had come around to choose the finer details, and he was seriously hopping it wouldn’t take long.

The garage was open as usual, but rather than Sarge or Lopez, there was someone else crouched over a pile of junk.

“Agent Washingtub!”

Caboose flung up his arm to wave, sending a trail of blue paint flying across the room. Wash stared at him for a long moment.

“Sarge told you I’m a secret agent, didn’t he?”

“And that he figured out you’re more a knife person, so I should say ’ _Knife to eat you’_.”

“Ooh who are we eating?”

Yet another new person appeared. Wash was seriously considering buying a note book to keep track of the amount of idiots he was encountering, because there were too many for his patchy memory to care about. This one had a fluff of blond hair with pink tips, and a large scar above their right eye. He ignored him.

“Caboose, where is Sarge?”

“He said he went looking for robot nuts. I wonder if they taste anything like peanuts.”

“I’ve got some nuts right here you could eat!”

Wash felt his face twitch as he looked at the overly cheerful man, who honestly fished out a bag of trail mix and offered it to Caboose.

“Thank you Admiral Buttercrust.”

“And for you…? Sorry, I’m assuming your name isn’t Washingtub.”

He raised a hand to decline the trail mix, “Washing _ton_. I’m just looking to speak to Sarge, then I really need to _go._ ”

“I’m Donut.” Wash squinted at him in a way that screamed ‘ _Seriously?’_ , “As for Sarge…Oh, lemme just-”

Donut put his hands to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut, sticking out his tongue a little. Completely uninterested in any more antics, Wash chose to walk away from the two, heading towards the back scrapyard. Though quiet suddenly he felt something underfoot-

“Yeeeee- WAIT!” Donut shouted a moment too late.

The pressure on the metal sheet Wash had stepped on launched a screw, which plinked comically around the garage at high speed. On its path it struck a small generator, which hummed to life and in turned brought several half-built robots to life, which all began to spark and convulse. 

A few metal beams hanging from the roof were knocked loose, falling like spears which Wash had to leap to avoid. Caboose seemed to be blissfully unaware of the danger, having returned to painting while things collapsed outside a metre radius of him. Donut had jumped back to the wall, managing to skirt around the chaos and leave out the back door the moment after Wash had put his foot down.

With a few curses against his luck, Wash did his best to avoid anything sharp, heavy, or weaponised, flinching when he heard to click of an empty gun from over by the robots. Suddenly the car hoist in the middle of the room jolted to life, rising and falling with a jerky motion. The strange shaped car that had been balanced on the lift tilted precariously, slipping from the tire holds and sliding right towards Washington.

“Son of a-!”

Everything froze. Only after the adrenalin rushing through him finally began to dissipate, did Wash dare to drop his arms from covering his face. The car was right there, hovering in front of him. He’d almost been crushed.

“What in tarnation is going on here?!”

Sarge was standing in the doorway, arms outstretched, looking suitably annoyed. Donut peeked over his shoulder and let out a sigh of relief.

“Red Sargent! Did you find the nuts?”

Caboose looked up from his circle of peace, where the only thing out of place was the blue paint. Sarge grumbled something under his breath, before relaxing his stance, making small gestures as he looked over his workshop. The car floated back to its place on the now still hoist, and the robots calmed. Once they were back in place, he finally turned his attention to Wash.

“Well if it isn’t secret agent Washington. Guess you’ve discovered our lil’ secrets now too.”

“I… I have no idea anymore. This whole town is cursed.”

“Bah, sounds like you wouldn’t know a good thing if it hit ya in the face! If it wasn’t for Donuts clarie-whatsit and my superior control over robots, you’d be a red splatter on my floor. Which would be better than all that blue. Damnit Caboose!”

Wash shook his head, realising that notebook of names should also cover the range of abilities each had. Also every other escape choice he could think of. Then if anyone ever found it, they could publish it as the ravings of a man who went crazy in a small town full of idiots.

“Sarge, as long at it’s cheap and drives, I don’t care what you do to the bike. Go nuts.”

Sarge looked up from scolding Caboose, quirking an eyebrow, but before he could speak Donut chimed in.

“Speaking of nuts!”

Wash didn’t stop himself from turning on his heel and running home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may not be American, but I do come from a small, nondescript town where the TV repair man could miraculously fix anything electronic!
> 
> At the moment I'm updating this bi-weekly, or as its written when I get impatient. 9 is the number of chapters written/planned so far. 
> 
> Come speculate or just say hi on my tumblr: LordSireno


	4. Don't get me wrong, I hate it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's new guests are weird and wrong and Wash can't stand it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the second chapter I'd written for this story, which is why Wash is a bit more humorous about the whole thing. Funny that!

Past the now ‘regulars’, who were all connected to the supernatural scene in one way or another, the other guests to the tiny store were often just the curious passers-by. Tourists looking for nick-knacks, locals burning time, kids who were dared to go into the ‘witch house’.

With today’s unusual visitor, Wash was betting on a mix of the last two. The young man was certainly looking at the shelves with some parts curiosity, but the way his eyes kept flicking to him and then to Loki to his left, there was equal parts nervous questioning to him. After running a hand through his shockingly red hair, he built up the courage to approach the counter. Wash tried not to make it obvious how he observed his approach. He was being thorough in his customer checks after meeting Church, not wanting to encourage more spirits to seek him out, though thankfully the pale complexion on this customer was not glowing white and was just ‘shut-in’ white.

“Are you a wizard?”

A shut-in _nerd_ white, though Wash had to give it to him for just blurting that out despite the nervous shake in his shoulders. Hell, he had time to humour him.

“Let me guess, you play Dungeons and Dragons?”

Their white cheeks quickly became tinted pink, and red-ish eyes darted to look anywhere but at him.

‘ _First guess. 10 points.’_

Loki slowly blinked, ‘ _Too easy, but I guess I’ll scratch another mark in the bookshelf.’_

“Listen, you shouldn’t believe stuff in fictional media. Things like novels and games are just the ideas of one or a few people.”

The mans shoulders dropped, and he looked ashamed. Wash almost felt bad for him.

“…If you want to know, I’m classified as a Witch. Wizards you’re more likely to find hiding out in schools and libraries, not running corner stores.”

The energy returned to the red head, and he leaned in a bit closer than Wash was comfortable with.

“So you’re saying there’s a clear difference between Witches and Wizards? It’s not just locational or gender based?”

Wash wondered at what point had he become so approachable. It was awful, but he disliked misinformation more. He straightened his back and cleared his throat.

“Those in the domain of magic are classified on how they practice. Witches are more naturalists, commons sense, natural elements and forces brought together to help with illnesses, aliments or general problems. We’ve got potions and chants that will say, help you study better or clear negative energies away, and we can tap into the flow of the world. Wizards on the other hand, are knowledge hungry maniacs who warp the world to their own desires, summoning horrors in their basements or throwing the elements around like some kind of Zeus or Poseidon wanna-be.”

The man had been nodding along to his explanation, excitement brimming to the point even Loki wanted out, jumping off the desk and retreating into the back.

“I admit I play with a group in college and while my parents hate the idea of me wasting time I’d heard about his shop and the fact it might be involved wit _real magic_ and like I could just ignore that and hear I am and it _is real_ and man Grif is gonna eat his words when he hears this, oh but I should probably finish my homework before I go see him, but I can’t believe this is _real_! Are there other Witches around? Do you know any wizards? What about other magical creatures, is that cat magical? Oh what kind of magic can you do?”

Slapping his hand on the counter with more force than necessary, Wash levelled his best ‘ _Please stop talking_ ’ look. They thankfully took the hint and their jaw snapped shut.

“Would you like the study kit?”

“…sure?”

Wash moved back to the shelves, picking out two small vials and tucking them into a drawstring bag, along with a small note card of instruction. For good measure he added extra lavender, for the guys nervous nature. He turned and sat the bag on the counter.

“$12. Return the bottles and bag and you’ll get $2 back.”

He swivlled to reach for his wallet, handing over the amount before scooping up the bag. As he turned to go, he paused, and turned back, extending his hand.

“Richard Simmons. M-most people call me Simmons.”

Wash regarded the hand, before accepting the shake.

“Washington. Please, do _not_ tell people about this place.”

* * *

A few days later, it was clear that Simmons did in fact, tell someone about his shop. From Loki’s position in the sunny window he alerted Wash to the return of the nerd, as well as one other person who did not seemed interested in what Simmons was saying. When Loki refused to move and switch the sign to closed, Wash sighed and resigned himself to social interaction.

“Okay look, just, _shut up_. Don’t say anything. Just stand in a corner and don’t. Do. Anything.”

Simmons gave his friend a pointed glare as they came through the door, but the larger man just shrugged.

“Whatever.”

Quickly, Wash noticed a resemblance, Simmons friend looking similar to the girl Tucker had been with at the bar, both sharing the same golden skin, dark eyes and thick brown hair. Siblings perhaps, but Wash wasn’t going to go out of his way to ask. He was just worried about how he’d somehow become a magnet for the mass of spiritually attuned people in this town.

“Hi Washington, I’m here to return the bottles.”

Simmons set the two glasses on the counter, nervous smile showing he probably wanted to talk again. Wash however, was suddenly distracted by Simmons left hand. As it moved from the bottle, there was a peculiar translucent nature to his skin, and just above on of his nails the skin was spilt. Rather than the red colour of healing skin, there was a tint of grey that continued up his finger, and once it got to the back of his hand the tendons shifted stiffly. Before he knew what he was doing, Wash reached out to grasp Simmons hand, pointedly squeezing his knuckles, to which Simmons let out a startled squeak. His friend was by his side in seconds, shoulders tense.

“It’s fake.”

“E- excuse me?”

“Your hand- no. Your whole arm? Its not flesh.”

“You can tell?!”

He turned the offending hand over, looking closely where veins would usually be seen at the wrist. There were lines, but he took a guess they were probably wires, being unable to sense the flow of blood anywhere past his shoulder.

“Hey Grif, you can back off.”

Simmons shifted awkwardly, and his friend got the hint, taking a less defensive stance. Apparently already in the flow of using his magic sense, Wash spared a glace towards Grif, and found that of course he couldn’t meet just normal people, they all had to be spiritually attuned.

“You two… don’t happen to know Church do you?”

Grif snorted at the name, “You mean that asshole who keeps spooking Bitters?”

Simmons gave his a side glance, “I thought your sister hung out with him?”

“Yeah, that too, but I swear I saw him messing around at the supermarket the other day.”

“Stop. Just- stop right there. That’s all I need to know.”

Wash sighed and let go of Simmons, reaching under the table to pull out the cash tin. He fished out the two dollars and sat it next to the bottles, but he still couldn’t take his eyes off the fake arm.

“Where did you even get an arm like this?”

“Sarge was the one who did the surgery.”

Wash couldn’t mask the shock on his face, “He did what now?”

“The surgery. Something about not wanting others touching his prototype prosthetics and bio-mechanical organs.”

“Your _organs?!_ ”

“Grif uses them now.”

“But you- that’s not- _how does that even-?!_ ”

His eyes flicked between the two with utter disbelief at what he was hearing. Neither seemed too fazed by their confession, nor his shock, so he quickly shook his head and dropped his expression back to neutral.

“Wait, I just remembered I don’t care. Please leave now. Don’t bring anyone else here.” 

Simmons looked like he wanted to talk more, but Grif shrugged and turned around, shouldering the red head to get him to follow. He picked up the returned money and bobbed his head as they left. Wash raised his hand in return, then dropped his head to the desk. 


	5. Hello Goodbye Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash thinks this is when his luck hit rock bottom.

He wasn’t sure at what point a routine had become part of his current life.

Get up, feed Loki, feed himself along side brewing some tea he’d managed to identify. Then check the shop, flick the sign to open and slowly deal with any headaches as they passed through. It was completely different from the anxious day to day life he’d previously had. He guessed this might have been what his life was like before he left town.

If Church didn’t appear before midday, it usually meant he had found someone else to harass and probably wouldn’t visit until evening, or he’d drag his victim to the shop as well. Tucker was a frequent shopper and showed up at least once a week, often on Thursdays. He’d try make a little small talk, and sometimes Wash was okay with contributing so long as it wasn’t anything personal.

Sometimes he would catch Simmons looking through the shop window, but he hadn’t worked up the courage to enter again. He hadn’t seen Grif of Kai in a while, which was good. Donut of all people had also visited not long after the garage incident, and while he mostly rattled on about nothing in particular (and filled said nothing with too many double entendres to count), he did request something to help his concentration. Wash was proud of himself for not prying into the _why_ or _how did you develop clairvoyance of all things?_

It was late afternoon of a zero-headache day, when a shadow passed the front window. Before Washington could even look up from his tea, the familiar voice of his most regular guest reached his ears.

“And there he is! He’ll be able to help you out no sweat.”

The next thing he heard was the warning growl from Loki as his hackles rose, sending alarm through their connection. Wash was on his feet and on the defensive within seconds of the new guest entering, and they seemed to do the same as green eyes met silver. Church seemed to be lost, looking between them.

“…Carolina.”

“Washington.”

“Uh... You two already know each other… that’s… good?”

There were a tense few seconds between them. Wash didn’t need to use magic to tell how tired Carolina was, the dark circles under her eyes and the glint of pain in them betraying that. As suddenly as she entered, Carolina moved to leave. The flick of her red ponytail startled Wash into moving in front of the counter.

“You’re leaving?” 

Church looked surprised too, “Yeah, we kinda just got here.”

“I can tell you’re not interested in my explanations.” Carolina didn’t look at either of them.

“I’m not, but I still want you to say something! I thought you were dead!”

“Not everyone is as immortal as you, though that doesn’t mean we die so easily.”

Church turned to Wash, “Wait what?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“No hey, what was that about immortality?”

Neither moved, Church awkwardly shifting on the spot. Breathing out through his nose, Wash was the one to back down, Loki equally relaxing but still on watch.

“Carolina, please…”

She left, iron bell clanging. The echo led to a heavy silence.

“Soooo, where do you guys know each other from?”

“Fuck off Church.”

The ghost flung his arms out.

“No you fuck off! I’m sick of all this cryptic bullshit, I want answers!”

“Well so do I.”

Church gave him a hard stare, teeth grinding.

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m talking about! I’ve had clearer conversations with Sarge’s Spanish robot, and I don’t think it even sees me!”

Wash didn’t respond, he just turned on his heel and retreated into the house.

“Oh no. We’re not done here.” Church marched through the wall, aiming for the most direct path. Past the kitchen and adjoined living space, he could see Wash climbing the stairs. In an instant he put him self in front of the witch, watching him startle but not stop as he went around him and continued to walk away.

“Stop god damnit!”

Church spun on the spot and pushed his arms into Washington’s shoulders, earning a yelp. Possession was not an easy skill to use, mostly because the owner of the body had to be willing, or at least unable to fight back. If they could fight back, the best he could do was reach into their skin and startle them with a feeling like ice in their veins (so he’d been told).

“Fuck OFF!”

Church felt himself be shoved back. He _felt it._ Energy brimmed around the area, radiating from Washington as he glared daggers at the ghost. Tremors began to run down Church, his form fading in and out at the first physical sense he’d had in years. He looked up in confusion, hoping for answers to any of the questions he suddenly had, but rather than seeing Wash’s glare, he only saw fear in the man’s eyes.

“Just… leave me alone.”

He entered his bedroom, and Church faded away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot?!


	6. It's fine, I'm fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, he isn't enjoying Tucker's small talk, he's just too tired to tell him to go away. Really.

Several days of overcast weather had left the shop dark and cool, lit by the one exposed bulb in the old fixture in the center of the roof. The long shadows it cast left Wash looking as tired as he felt. Since their last encounter several days ago, he hadn’t seen nor heard from Church, which he felt both grateful for, and kind of a dick about. He hadn’t meant to take his anger out on the ghosts, it was just that seeing Carolina had dredged up his old memories and feelings, and he wasn’t able to handle it all at once. Then when he’d put his hands into him…

He shook his head, desperate not to bring up the terror again, and Loki protested from his lap. He didn’t know why that was his emotional response, but ignoring and forgetting were two things he was good at. So he chose to close his eyes and run his hands through Loki’s fur, focusing on the vibrations from his purrs.

When the iron bell chimed, he only cracked one eye open enough to check the customer, closing it when he could make out Tucker through the blur of his lashes. Being a customer who knew what he wanted to buy, Wash felt it safe to just leave him be and continue with his ‘ignore the world past this wonderful cat’ plan.

Tucker on the other hand, suddenly found himself distracted from his usual shop by Wash’s unusual behaviour. There was no irritated sigh, no half-hearted greeting, no yowling cat asking for pats. Just a man who looked half dead behind the counter. After a little hesitation, he quickly grabbed what he usually did and wandered up to the counter. Wash didn’t move right away, looking practically asleep until his eyes cracked open.

“Not sleeping well?”

“...You could say that.”

“You know, I moved out to this town because I was looking for somewhere quiet. Plus you’d be surprised how lucky you can get with small schools and their acceptance of children with special needs.”

Wash let out a sigh, “I wouldn’t know. I mean, no kids and all. Also Church has been haunting me since day one here.”

“Ha! Yeah that dick really doesn’t get personal space. I think I had two weeks before I first saw him.” Tucker tapped at his chin, thinking, “You know, it was probably Caboose’s fault that I met Church. I swear you take one step near that guy and he practically steals all your luck.”

Wash quirked a brow, remembering the incident at Red Base. It’d need more investigation, but if Caboose was a luck sponge… No, he ended that train of thought. He didn’t need to involve himself like that. However, while thy were on the topic of the shared haunting-

“It doesn’t explain _why_ you can see Church though. Like I explained before, unless you’re born seeing them, there needs to be a catalyst for you to start seeing ghosts.”

Tucker seemed to stop and study him for a moment. In turn, Wash stared into his eyes, suddenly spying the iridescent aqua colour that was flecked through the brown. Even in the shops dim lighting it stood out and Wash almost kick himself for not noticing before. It was quite pretty.

“Hey, do you believe in aliens?”

“This better not be the start of some sex joke.”

“My sex life is no joke buddy.”

Wash let a half smile slip onto his face, oddly fine with the return of absurd talk he’d been without the last few days. He sat up a little more in his chair.

“Hm. I’ve seen some stuff, a lot of it in this town. So say I did believe in aliens.”

“Well, turns out they have some _really_ weird standards.”

“So this is a sex joke?”

Tucker laughed, leaning in to shove his shoulder. Wash did his best to hide his flinch.

“Shut up and let me finish. So, I was out on the town after one hell of a night at a very tasteful nightclub. My brain decides that a walk in the fresh air would be nice, and somewhere down the road I become aware of this light. But it’s not in front of me, its above! Then my memory is blurry… but yeah, next thing I know I’m looking after Junior.”

Wash blinked. Once, twice. He waited for further explanation, but Tucker just smiled, not appealing to the utter bewilderment that must be all over his face. He stopped petting Loki, moving to rub his temples.

“So aliens gave you a baby?”

“Pretty much.”

Wash fixed him with a stare, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry or annoyed.

“It’s certainly not a dull day with any of you weirdos about.”

“Oh, next time I’ll bring Junior. Then you’ll never know peace.”

“Was he born with a need to take over the world?”

“No, but he was born a bitter. You’re not open to babysitting, are you?”

“That sounds like I’d need health insurance, doubly so if he’s as lively as you.”

“You’ve got plenty of stuff here to remedy what the tyke could do.”

“I’m meant to be selling this stuff, not using it. Speaking of-“

Wash moved the usual items into a bag, and Tucker fished out the exact amount of cash, swapping it for the bag.

“Thanks. Well, guess I’ll see ya next week.”

He left with a grin and a wave, satisfied he’d brightened the mood, and Wash let his own smile linger as he returned to patting Loki. The cat stretched, cleaning his paws as he enjoyed the return of warmth.

“I wonder if I’ll miss this when I leave.”

Loki yawned, “ _They’ll probably miss you more~”_

Wash let out a humourless laugh.

“I guess it was _kinda_ fun while it lasted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left a kudo or comment so far! It really helps me continue writing. There's still 3 chapters to go, and it should still be on track for my bi-weekly updates, however my gremlin brain wont let this AU rest. So stay tuned~


	7. The full service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash returns to Red Base for what he hopes is the last time. It's not like he's stalling or anything.

It was coming around to mid-morning when he got the call, the name stored alerting him to the who, but not preparing him for how loud Sarge was as he cheerfully exclaimed that his bike was ready for collection. As he rambled, Washington could feel a pang of anxiety running through him, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the thought of returning to Red Base, or from something else. When Sarge finally paused for breath he spoke up, telling the mechanic he’d be around in an hour.

After checking and double checking the shops lock, he began his walk, knowing it wouldn’t take an hour, but trying to sort out his feelings could take even longer. The anxiety didn’t settle, the thrum of it in his chest causing his pace to speed up, and the beat of his footsteps was the only thing he could focus on. His hands were at a loss, they went from his sides, to his pockets, to his hair, then back to his sides to drum against his thigh. The thirty-minute walk was condensed into eighteen minutes, meaning he reached the workshop much too quickly for his liking, and he pushed everything else aside in his head so he could suck it up and get home faster.

Then he saw the bear.

The large, brown bear, who was currently lifting a lawnmower onto a bench. There was a snarl on its muzzle, and a bored look in its eyes and something suddenly clicked in Wash’s head.

_‘Mother was a bear. That kind of life-force...’_

He nodded and chose to ignore the sight, heading right for the back door, where amongst the sea of junk Sarge’s red jumpsuit stood out. The man was sorting through bolts and wires, occasionally tossing an item towards Lopez, who seemed to catch or drop it on his own whim. The robot noticed his approach first.

“Hola.”

“I’m not sure you should have the front door open when there’s a bear working in there.”

Sarge’s head whipped up to look at him, before twisting towards the garage with a scowl.

“God damn dirtbag! I told ‘im no powers during work. He’s meant to suffer like the worm he is!” He stood and dusted himself off, “GRIF!”

There was a rattle from the workshop, like something was dropped. Sarge grumbled to himself.

“SIMMONS! Go check on Grif, shoot him if he’s a bear. Also, shoot him if he’s a person. In fact, just shoot him for good measure!”

Wash watched as Simmons appeared from the side of the building, laptop tucked under his arm. He gave a salute, but faltered at the sight of the witch, almost letting the computer slip from his grasp. He took a second to compose himself. 

“I’ll get right on it sir!”

Wash watched as he ran into the garage.

“So you’re employing students now?”

“There’s only so much work you can get one robot to do. Anyway, I’m sure you’re most excited to see my work!”

Sarge threw an arm around his shoulder, which Wash could not slink away from, and lead him around the side of the workshop which Simmons had just come from. There were a few hoists holding different engines and frames, alongside an outdoor table and chairs with a pink umbrella to offer shade. Donut was seated with a plate of assorted cheeses and offered a smile and wave as he looked up from a home decorating magazine. Just off to the side of all the mess was Sarge’s creation, which the man patted fondly after letting Wash go.

There wasn’t anything fancy about the bike. It was probably on the smaller side, without anything bulky or excessive that could possibly be hiding weaponry. The paint on its tank was a pale yellow against the flat grey of the metal work, dashes of shiny silver present on the exhaust and handlebars. There was also a small rack on the back, the perfect size for Loki’s crate.

“I let Donut do the paint’n, seeing as he was so torn up about the colour choice. Still think red would’a been more fit’n.” 

“It’s… nice.”

He really couldn’t find a fault with it, despite the bizarrity of how he’d come to ordering it. He nodded at Donut, who had leaned forward with a grin.

“And I also suggested the spot on the back for your cute little pussy!”

Wash bit back his groan, Sarge did not. As Sarge tried to get Donut to realises the issue with his words, Simmons returned, this time managing to keep a hold on his laptop when he locked eyes with Wash. Lopez was close behind, holding a vacuum cleaner which seemed to have saw blades on its side.

“…Hey there.”

Simmons seemed to push down any worry he had to greet him. He struggled to do the same, only nodding at the cyborg.

“El proyecto de vacío ha sufrido suficiente negligencia. Si ya terminaste, ayúdalo.”

For a robot, Lopez managed to sound particularly annoyed, gesturing the vacuum towards Sarge. Having failed to get through to Donut, the mechanic turned to study his creations.

“Lopez says the vacuum could use some tender loving care, it just can’t suck off like it used to!”

“NO me traduzcas.”

“Hrm, I just can’t find the right stuff for it. It needs something more.”

Stepping under the shade, Simmons opened his laptop.

“If I may sir, the ‘Suck it Blue’ doesn’t have the power to operate anything bigger than its current arsenal. Its results against other bots has been falling by point five every time too. If we want to have a chance in the next line up, we should put our focus into something like Dos.0.”

“Shh!” Sarge quickly wrapped his hand around where ears would sit on Lopez, “You know how the lesser model feels about the superior upgrade.”

“Todavía puedo escuchar idiota.”

“Besides, Dos.0 hasn’t been operational since that damn kid Caboose let his ‘Freckles’ go at ‘im.”

Simmons frowned, eyes darting back to whatever was on his screen. Finally finding the pause, Washington had a chance to speak up.

“Well, I need to get back to the shop. So, thank you Sarge.”

The mechanic moved away from Lopez, smiling fondly.

“Alright. And look, if you ever need anything, and I don’t mean just bike related, I mean _anything_ , you call alright? You don’t look like the kinda guy with many contacts.”

“Well-”

“And if you happen to find yourself in a car chase and need someone to back you up in an epic slow-mo gun fight, then _definitely_ give me a call. Even better if you call before hand so I can rig Lopez with some guns and explosive charges. You don’t even have to tell me what kind of conspiracy your wrapped-up in, I don’t mind.”

Sarge slapped his back, laughing to himself. Looking to avoid the assault, Wash stepped to mount the bike, before Sarge firmly gripped his shoulder to stop him.

“Do you have a helmet?”

Wash’s eyes went wide, darting to the side.

“Uh…”

The old man squinted at him.

“How much riding experience do you have?”

“Well…”

“Unacceptable! Can’t have you dy’in out front. Bad for business and all that.”

“…Right.”

Wash gripped the handles and kicked the stand back, giving it a testing push, thankful the small size meant less weight to push. It was still an effort to get it rolling however, and then manoeuvring it through the side gate. Once they were at the front of the garage, Sarge paused.

“GRIF! If ya givin up for the day, then you should help Wash on ya way home.”

“That won’t be necessary-”

“Nonsense! It’s always necessary for that lazy slob to suffer more. Get to it dirt bag!”

The now human Grif slunk out from the garage, Simmons briefly walking up to him. After a quiet _‘Sucked in’_ and _‘Shut it nerd’_ exchange, Grif walked up and took the bikes handles from Wash, jerking his head towards the road. Having spent more time than he’d ever planned for, he held back on any further remarks and trekked home, Grif easily pushing the bike beside him. As those remaining at Red Base waved, the two travelled in silence.

After five minutes, Wash felt the anxiety creeping back stronger. His hands were getting restless, so he reached for a distraction.

“So… bear hu?”

Wash kicked himself for such a bizarre opening line. Grif raised a brow but didn’t look at him.

“Yeah. Comes in handy sometimes.”

“And uh, Kai was it? She’s the same?”

That made Grif stop and turn, glaring without any intensity.

“You know my sister _how?_ ”

“She was out drinking with Tucker.”

Swearing to himself, Grif resumed walking.

“I’m gonna kick her ass, then I’m gonna kick Tuckers.”

“Don’t go to hard on him, he basically funds my store.”

“Harsh. Do you see all your customers as walking banks?”

“Just him, and maybe Simmons, since apparently I can scare him into buying things.”

“About that-” Wash was surprised to see the serious look on his face, “Just because the nerd doesn’t have a spine, don’t think you can just push him around and drain him dry.”

“I didn’t real-”

“That’s my job.”

Wash let out a bemused noise, “You must be aiming for friend of the year.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence again as they reached the main roads, eventually turning down a side alley, slipping in behind the shops. Wash was still struggling to stop his hand tapping at his thighs, and he couldn’t tell if Grif was looking at him do it, or just at the passing doors. Six houses along, and they were behind the little shop Wash currently called home. He pointed for Grif to leave the bike by the back door.

“Hey so, question for you.”

He paused from fishing out his keys.

“How did you know about the fake arm thing?”

If he was genuinely curious, Grif didn’t show it. He just levelled that same bored look at him. Wash regarded him caution.

“I could tell there wasn’t any blood flowing through it.”

“…that’s it?”

He shrugged and unlocked the door, stepping inside to try to end the days socialising. Grif frowned but accepted the dismissal.

“Whatever man. You keep your secrets, but I expect you to keep ours.”

He left, and Wash closed the door, before pressing his back to it and letting himself slide down. He let out a sigh and dropped his head into his hands, barely noticing as Loki came to his side in an instant.

“ _Long day~?”_

“You could say that.”

The anxiety settled into a ball in his gut, still draining what little social energy he had left. He decided not to re-open the shop, and instead busied himself with making tea and searching for where he could buy a motorbike helmet. He never looked at express shipping.

Things were moving too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters left you weep? Well fret not! My brain won't let this universe die, and I have at least 3 side stories ideas: One romantic based, one Grif and Simmons based, and one expanding on some other side characters but would mostly be Wash, Simmons and Caboose. So stay tuned for when I make the series link.


	8. Things left unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He used to be known for holding grudges, maybe. But it's hard to do that when you don't remember who or why.

He wasn’t gone. At least, not yet.

Motorcycle helmets were not something that was sold in the town, obviously, considering no bikes were sold in the town either. So he was waiting for an online order to come through, and that meant more time waiting. More time dealing with ghosts in this much too small town. Small enough that apparently, he couldn’t go anywhere without being reminded of the past.

Her hair stood out amongst the fading paint of the cafe’s shopfront, red still vibrant as ever.

He wondered if her standout looks are what drew Church to her. Like he could leave someone new in town alone.

Before he realised what he was doing, he had walked right up to her table. Carolina lowered her cup to give him her attention, but he certainly didn’t miss how her shoulders went stiff and her grip on the handle tightened. They locked eyes, like they’d done before, both in two minds about what to do. After seeing the café owner give him a look though the window, he carefully pulled out a chair and sat across from her. The owner came out to take his order, a cup of tea, and left after checking that Carolina was still okay with her coffee. Then the silence between them resumed.

“So…”

He sighed, having no idea what to say to her, but not wanting to sit it this awkwardness any longer.

“You seem to be doing alright for yourself.”

She didn’t look at him.

“Mmh, you could say that.”

It was her turn to sigh. He hadn’t known Carolina for long, and it had mostly been during the end of his… unfortunate employment under a man he knew as the Director. What he did remember of her was that she was strong, confidant, and a take charge leader. Everyone had looked up to her, before-

He could feel himself frowning at the sudden block his thought hit.

“What about you? Keeping busy?”

“In a way I guess.”

They were a pair of master conservationists. If they’d been agents like Sarge dreamed up, no one would ever get secret plans from them. The owner re-appeared and slipped his tea onto the table. Carolina took a long sip of her coffee, tension not entirely leaving her shoulders. She regarded Wash with a steady eye.

“So, you’re okay dealing with Church?”

He squinted, curious at the mention of the ghost.

“…Yeah, why?”

“Because he’s… You know…”

Wash tried to make it clear on his face that, no, he didn’t know, and she’d need to elaborate.

“You…don’t remember.”

His attention moved to stirring his tea. Because of course this came back to the gaps in his memory. Her frown bore into him.

“What _do_ you remember?”

Wash put a hand to his face and considered the question.

He’d been in the throes of his version of 'teen rebellion’, when a man had contacted him, interested in his abilities. It sounded like a challenge, so he’d agreed, and joined the likes of a few others who had also been asked to help. All of who seemed to be haunted.

Then… something happened.

That’s usually where he’d stop remembering, because the headache would set in. And the anxiety, and the feeling of ice in his blood. But after seeing an old face, he tried to dig a bit deeper.

Their employer became impatient. Carolina appeared, and everyone gravitated to her leadership. Then the spirits changed hosts. He encountered something, there was fire and screaming and… and…

Next thing he knows he’s wandering the country, with the belief that those friends he last made were dead.

What had he even been doing for the director? Why had everything gone to shit? Why _couldn’t he remember ANYTHING-_

He suddenly felt a hand on his own, which had become a fist on the table. He looked up to meet Carolina’s eyes, seeing the concern she had. He tried to relax, letting out a shaking breath and rubbing his eyes to dispel the sudden headache. She carefully sounded out her next words.

“It’s okay. It’s okay if you don’t remember.”

“But there’s _so much_ I don’t remember.” He bit out, “I don’t remember the home I grew up in, the friends I made in school, the faces of _my own family-”_

Carolina looked stricken at his outburst, pulling away from his hand and staring into her own cup.

“…maybe it’s for the better.”

“But don’t you miss him?”

Her brows furrowed, and she went deathly still.

“Who?”

His mouth opened, and then closed. It did that a few times, and he looked confused at why there were no words forming. He shook his head, then stood. Carolina followed suit.

There were half formed faces swimming in his mind, staring down at him with empty eyes. A man in glasses, hair thinning. One with a charming tone and a scar like a star over his eye. A bulky form that growled with fire behind his neck. A young man with black hair who seemed to be equal parts pissed off and _terrified._

“Him, them, _anyone._ They’re all gone and we’re here. Alone.”

Carolina moved around the table to place a hand on his shoulder.

“That just means we have a chance to make things _right_.”

He stared at he, looking for further meaning, “Make what right?”

“I want the Director to pay for what he did, to everyone who was involved.”

He wasn’t convinced, and he mustn’t have looked it either as Carolina turned away. There was furry in her eyes when she mentioned the director, but it was something he couldn’t match. He knew that had whatever had happened while they worked under him was in no way good, but he also couldn’t muster that seething anger. He wished he could have forgotten everything and started completely a new, not letting himself be held down by the unknown. She turned back once more.

“Church took me to your shop because I said I wanted someone to help me deal with the ghosts of the past, and when I saw you there, I did think that maybe it was fate. Two remaining souls, gravitating towards each other.”

He didn’t meet her look, he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do what you’re asking of me.”

He heard her sigh, and then move away. When he finally dared to look up, she was already halfway down the street. His legs twitched, involuntary shouting at him to run after her, the only person who could give him answers for those missing months. Instead he sat back down and stared into his tea as it grew cold.


	9. It's a Start

Wash felt drained. From the sudden ownership of the shop, to the weird populace of the town, to his growing anxiety, to Carolina’s declaration of revenge. It was all too much in just a few weeks.

The shop sign was turned to close, but he still sat at the counter, basking in the scent of aging plants and furniture being warmed in the sun. With his head pressed into his forearms, he desperately fought away his dwelling thoughts on everything, begging his brain to settle and give him some peace and quiet. But the moment he felt he could relax, another thought popped up.

‘ _Carolina looked so sad. She probably feels just as bad as you do. And she never explained what she meant by dealing with Church… who is Church to her? Who is he to me?_

With a frown he drew his face from his arms, knowing peace wasn’t coming any time soon. As he beadily looked up, he wasn’t sure if he was seeing right.

Church was back, staring at that same damn shelf. He’d never even thought to investigate what on there could hold the ghost’s attention, but studying him in his stillness, Wash thought he could see a twist of sadness in his expression. It vanished instantly when Church turned to look at him. They both stared, unblinking, until Wash caved first, looking down at the cracks in the counter. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Look. I’m… sorry, about before. But Sarge finished the bike, so you won’t have to see my face ever again-”

“Stop it.”

He stared at Church, face slack.

“What?”

“You keep going on about how you ‘won’t be here long’ or you’ll be 'gone soon’, like you’re going to dramatically disappear in the night. But it’s been fucking ages and you’re still here.” Church crossed his arm, fixing him with a dubious look, “Why?”

Wash looked around the room, as if searching for the answer.

He'd been asking the same question more often than not over the last few days, bike helmet still wrapped in its packaging on the kitchen counter. Those little voices in his head were fighting him from both sides: _S_ _tay? Go? Stay. Go._ He didn't want to admit it, but one seemed to be winning.

After a few moments he sheepishly gave a shrug, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Nostalgia?”

“Fuck off. Seriously?”

“Okay maybe it’s more than that.”

He looked around the room again, pulling at those thoughts he’d just been chasing away.

“It’s… that this is… familiar. More than anything in I don’t know how long. I get bits of dejavu, hints of 'I’ve been here before’, and while I don’t remember anything solid it’s nice to just… feel like I belong.” His tone became quiet, eyes falling to the floor, “The people here too I guess, I didn’t put it together before, but I think I’ve gotten used to having visitors, having someone to talk to.”

“Yeah, you’re a grade A conversationalist.”

He shrugged again.

“My family and old friends will never come back, but this? It’s something- Something more than looking for the next place to wander to. The roof over my head and warm bed every night is just a bonus.”

Church stared at him for a long moment, and Wash tried not to squirm under the look of _'did you seriously just spill your guts to me?',_ before the ghost barked out a laugh.

“Fuck man, sounds like you’ve been through hell. And that’s saying something coming from me, I’m dead!”

Wash rested his cheek in his hand, “Yeah, I guess that’s just part of being functionally immortal.”

“Oh right. Carolina mentioned that…”

They were both quiet. Church shifted on the spot, eyes flicking back to the shelf, but settling on Wash when he heard the soft sigh.

“You know how they say that cats have nine lives? It’s… kinda like that.”

“So you’re a cat? Good thing ghosts don’t get allergies.”

“What? No it’s not- That’s not what I-”

“I’m just fucking with ya.”

“Fuck you.”

The mood lightened as Wash couldn’t help but laugh. Like, actually laugh. This whole situation had been absurd since he’d come back to this tiny town, where he knew old memories should lie, but instead he found a swath of bizarre people connected to a ghost who was a strange level of familiar. How ridiculous was his life? 

Church laughed to, for his own reasons. He’d never planned to become so involved with the witch, but there was something that kept drawing him back. The two of them were connected in a way neither could place, but for the time they had now, neither could deny they weren’t having some level of fun.

The anxiety Washington had still fluttered in his chest, but it settled marginally when he though about his next words.

“Hey so… think anyone would mind if I stuck around a bit longer?”

Church smirked, raising a brow.

“Hm, do you think you could be a little less cryptic?”

“That’s a tough ask, but I’m sure I can try.”

“Then I certainly wouldn’t mind. You're way more interesting than haunting the supermarket.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Church laughed again, wandering up to Wash. While they spoke, Loki slunk out from warm window seat, padding his way to the shelf in the middle of the room. With ease, he jumped up the shelves, coming to rest on the one that sat at the ghost’s eye level. At the back of the shelf, behind jars and bundles of dried plants, was a dusty photo frame.

One that held a picture of a family, all together, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this fic came out of left field, knocked me over, and dragged me for way further than anything else I've done. And it's still not finished with me! As you can see this is now attached to a series, where any more writing in this AU will be put. 
> 
> Additional stories will be posted as they're written, so keep an eye out for more shenanigans and socially awkward Wash. 
> 
> A massive thank you to everyone whose kudos, commented and/or bookmarked!! You're words are what helped me get this out of my brain and onto screen!!


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